it’s inevitable. that dreaded hour arrives… in our house we bravely face it around six to seven at night… where your child cannot be made happy. toys are frustrating, books are maddening, the floor is unbearable, and all that soothes are the loving arms of a mama or papa (and sometimes, not even those suffice!). we also call this the witching hour (oh, you have one too?!?). when we put parker down on the floor during this hour he looks up at us, tears in his eyes, arms held high:
pick me up!
he’d say it if he could.
it also happens to be the hour when i’m most often cooking dinner and need some help with the little guy. steve! i cannot focus when he is fussing! pick him up! or it is PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICHES FOR A WEEK!
sunday night i found the perfect activity to keep the witching hour at bay: motown classics, my friends. we had a certifiable dance party at the hunt abode, parker on my hip as i bopped around to the beat (of course this doesn’t work if you are cooking dinner, but we’d already eaten. hurrah!). he loved it.
this is way better than yesterday’s witching hour, ma!
he’d have said that if he could, too.
lindsey did her crazy moves (i should get them on video at some point) and parker watched, laughed, and continued chilling on my hip, happy as a clam, while we danced to the music. and then, at about the fourth song (quite loud, i might add), i looked down to his little face resting on my chest fast asleep. i kid you not. this boy! makes me melt!
you want your own stave-off-the-witching-hour-motown-classics-playlist? why didn’t you say so?!
press play, fools!